


Once or Twice

by Pitseleh



Category: Doctrine of Labyrinths - Sarah Monette
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, M/M, Post-Series, i didn't mean to make it so 'babies ever after' sorry., tying up loose ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pitseleh/pseuds/Pitseleh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tying up some loose ends, post-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once or Twice

Bernard finds the Heber manor much the same as when he left, if a bit older and snowier in the past five years. He finds his daughter grown, and watchful; she does not recognize him. He supposes that is to be expected. Ingrid sits on the gate that separates the Heber lands from its neighbors, tending to the flock of sheep bleating at her feet, and she stares down the road with the hard, sharp blue eyes her mother gave her.

"Ho! And who are you?"

Bernard stops at the gates and leans on them, seeing how beautiful his daughter is, now, how strong and brave. "Bernard Heber, returned from my travels. And who are you?"

It takes a moment, but the realization crashes like waves on Ingrid's face, and she puts her stubbornness aside to hop down from the gate and run, hugging her father tightly. Bernard hugs back, whispering her name until her tears have stopped. She looks up at him angrily-- she was ever a willful child, Bernard remembers that. She says, "we thought you were _dead_."

Bernard kisses her forehead and says he isn't, now, and that's what matters. Ingrid refuses to move until she's wiped all her tears away, and then, in a voice very hushed, she says, "mama thought you were dead, too."

"Would you like to come with me, and tell her I'm not?" Bernard says. He was never a particularly indulgent father, he figures, but now, he may as well be as indulgent as he pleases. Nothing will undo the damage done, disappearing these past five years. May as well make up for lost time with kindness.

" _Yes_ ," says Ingrid, daring him to disagree. But after a moment, her harsh expression relents, and she whispers once more. "Mama is married, now. We all thought you were dead, and mama got remarried, and she's pregnant."

Bernard had not prepared himself for this eventuality. But, he supposes, he should have predicted it. His marriage to Mechthilde was a marriage of convenience for them both; when his convenience ran out, he should have supposed she would move on accordingly. "Well," he began to say, but Ingrid cut him off.

"Don't be mad," she said, and began crying anew. Ingrid had never cried much, even as a little baby. Bernard supposes that, too, must have changed. "Please don't be mad."

Bernard remembers shouting, once or twice. He didn't think Ingrid had minded, not that much. But he had been a harsh man before, and was still a harsh man, now. He will endeavor to be kinder, at least for the moment, at least to make his daughter stop crying.

He had not realized how he had missed her.

"I won't be mad," Bernard says, and picks his daughter up liked she used to, settling her on his shoulders. She's gotten heavier, and Bernard supposes that shouldn't be such a surprise, either.

•

Gordeny Fisher never regrets her life. Once or twice, Septimus the Fox does.

•

When Gideon was very, very young, the world was full of magic.

He felt it on his face, in his bones, in his blood, in the very air he breathed. And he was good at it, too. The world was full of books, books about magic, books he could read, if he worked hard enough.

And then the men in armor came and said he could read all day, if he liked, if only he would join the Bastion. Gideon had heard stories, once or twice, about them being cruel people, but his family was poor and they had promised an end to that.

Gideon agreed.

He did not think the promised end would be setting his childhood home alight.

When Gideon felt very, very old, the world was full of magic.

He can feel it in his blood, in his bones, but no longer on his face. His face now is concerned too much with never, ever showing any emotion ever again. It cannot feel anything anymore. Gideon thinks he cannot, either. Perhaps that is why he signs these warrants, without reading them or caring. For years, Gideon will think Thaddeus hated him for the principle of it, for allowing so many sanctioned deaths to befall innocent Kekropians. Gideon thinks this, because Gideon doesn't remember signing the papers with Thaddeus' childhood home stamped on them.

When Gideon is older still, he leaves. Gideon finds one can only stay numb for so long. He thinks he is a good man placed in difficult circumstances. Essentially, Felix agrees, though he never quite manages to learn the details.

Thaddeus disagrees rather bitterly, but that is to be expected, given the circumstances, difficult as they are.

•

Shannon never sees Felix again. And, with time, Shannon can even forgive himself that. Once or twice, he thinks of riding out to Grimglass, seeing exactly who this Kay is, rescuing his love like in all the stories he's been told since he was a little boy. But he is always convinced out of it in time, and there is the true rescue.

•

Mehitabel dines with Stephen often, far more often than she dines with Hallam, or he dines with Elinor. But she supposes that is to be expected-- that is what mistresses are for. And so, one night, she tells Stephen the truth.

"Pregnant?" He is brusque as always. "Is it mine?"

Mehitabel is, for a moment, painfully indignant, but she reins it in. This is the Lord Protector. She had best be careful, patient and kind. So she only says, "yes," when all echo of trivial indignation have left her. "I haven't-- Hallam is too sick, since the Bastion. These days, we mostly talk."

"Hmm," Stephen is silent for a moment, and then he speaks again in that dry tone made especially so, Mehitabel has learned, it seems like he doesn't care. "If it's not mine, I won't be angry. I just need to know."

"Stephen," Mehitabel says, "please tell me you don't think I'm stupid enough to sleep with other men if I were the Lord Protector's mistress."

"I said you could do whatever you liked with Hallam, Tabby. I knew full well what I was doing, getting your old flame out of the Bastion."

"Yes, and _I_ said he's been ill-- he can barely stand these days, Stephen."

"Alright," he says. "So you're having a baby. Before my wife is, of course. If she's barren, powers..." He shakes his head, and looks back to Mehitabel, eyes focused and calm enough for Mehitabel to envy him. She hasn't been pregnant since she was seventeen and terrified. She is not looking forward to repeating the experience. "Do you want to keep it?"

Mehitabel had not expected to be presented with a choice, and perhaps this shows on her face. Perhaps it doesn't. Stephen does not comment either way, just waits for Mehitabel to make up her mind. Mehitabel has been grateful for Stephen's occasional flights of kindness once or twice, but never so much as now.

Finally, she says, "I don't know."

"Well," Stephen says, taking another helping of honeyed ham. "I suppose it is up to you, ultimately. I would prefer you to keep it, of course, if only because if Elinor really _is_ barren, I don't think I have it in me to get married for a third time." He thinks a moment. "Of course, if you have a sudden and tragic miscarriage, I won't hold it against you. It is up to you."

Mehitabel smiles, and this time, she even manages to mean it.

•

Felix dies when he is eighty-seven, quietly and in his sleep. As ever, his brother follows soon after. Once or twice a year, Kay visits their graves and leaves clusters of trumps as Mildmay once requested.

•

Mechthilde has not become ugly in the years since Benard has been away. Indeed, she has become more beautiful. Bernard remembers her always being the most gorgeous in the full blush of pregnancy, and he supposes now is no different.

When she sees him, she gasps, and stands immediately, shouting his name. "Bernard!" she says, and he expects her to cry, but she does not. "You- we-"

"Shh," he says, and takes a seat at the table that he made with his own hands. He supposes it truly isn't his anymore. "Ingrid told me everything. I know."

Mechthilde almost flinches back from these words, and Bernard wonders at such a reaction. He crosses his arms in front of him and thinks a moment before speaking. He doesn't want to speak in anger, as such an action seems almost expected of him.

"You can divorce him, if you like, and marry me again. Or you can stay with him. Whatever you like."

Mechthilde does not frown, but she does furrow her eyebrows. " _Divorce_. Is your crippled little brother going to divorce us, Bernard? As a special favor to you, for being his damn lackey for these past five years? Because I can't think of any other way for a Von Heber to give us a divorce warrant."

Bernard does not smile. He barely lets himself move. He doesn't like to think about this part-- it makes it seem mercenary, cruel, and plotting. That was ever his brother's job, not his.

But his brother is dead.

"No," Bernard says. "Mavortian is dead. I can sign your divorce warrant if I want to."

Finally, Mechthilde sits back down. "He's dead?"

"Yes," Bernard says. "Once or twice, when we were little, he used to taunt me with legitimizing me, if I'd do something for him... well, I finally did enough, it seems. The papers are in that old locker I left... unless you decided to throw that in the river."

"I didn't," Mechthilde said, her voice hushed.

Bernard stands, and walked over to Mechthilde, and kisses her forehead like he used to all those years ago, before Ingrid was born, when they were still young and willing to pretend they loved each other. "Good. At least I can say something good came of all this."

Mechthilde raises one eyebrow. "I think we all can."


End file.
